


The Hardest Part Is Over

by Abigail (artyandabby)



Series: Heroes of Olympus Fix Fics [3]
Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, Post-Series, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artyandabby/pseuds/Abigail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home is where the heart is. The heart is with family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Part Is Over

Percy’s feet dragged as he walked up the second flight of stairs. Why was his apartment so far up?

 _Only one more flight_ , he reminded himself. That was....how many steps? Thirty? It sounded like a mountain. He had to climb it. He had to.

His legs ached. He felt like he’d been walking for miles. He guessed that was half true. The battle with the giants, the skirmishes at camp, the trip back to Manhattan....That was more than he could put together. It made his head spin that it was all one day.

Percy leaned his forehead against the wall. It felt too room-temperature to really help with anything. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing from hitching. He had a burning stitch in his side. Or maybe a cut. He ran his fingers lazily over his ribs and felt dampness. He smelled sharpness and minerals. Blood.

His stomach lurched. Percy gripped the rail on the staircase and took another step.

Percy felt like someone had knocked him down and hit him all over. Even his intestines felt bruised. More than anything, he was tired. Just thinking about his mom’s couch made him want to cry.

Just thinking about his mom made him want to cry.

How long had it been since she’d see him? Over six months. Half a year. Two semesters, roughly. Too long. Too long. Did she even know he was alive? _I left a message._ A phone recording wasn’t a heartbeat.

Percy’s heart ached.

He wanted to see her. It was only a flight.

He took another step. Another. It was an equation, he told himself. Like the ones Annabeth knew, but simpler. A series of steps. They made his feet hurt, but at least his feet blended in now.

What had happened to her while he was gone? Was she all right? Sick? Sleeping okay? _Paul will take care of her_. Paul was one person. Paul wasn’t her son.

 _You promised_ , Percy thought as he talked himself into another step. _You promised she was done taking care of you. Now you take care of her. Remember? Remember that._

 _T minus two minutes_ , he thought. _Maybe twelve. Then I’ll see her. Then I can take care of her._

In defiance of his exhaustion, a rebel of muscle, Percy’s heart pounded. It was a strange excitement-anxiety. He wanted to be home-he was afraid of home. _Why be afraid of home?_ Is it home anymore?

It needed to be.

Fifteen more steps until the flight was over.

Percy pulled his jacket tighter around him, hoping it would hide the bloodstains if any of his neighbors happened to walk out. A harsh laugh pushed itself out. If his neighbors walked out now and found him, bedraggled, shivering, and leaning on a metal railing to keep from falling over, he would have far bigger concerns than whether or not he was a good target for a vampire moocher. They hadn’t heard the message. To him, he was dead. A ghost walking.

Had she told them? That he was gone? That, maybe, he wasn’t? Either way, they were talking.

They were always talking about him. _Sally Jackson’s son is failing classes. Sally Jackson’s son is a missing person. Sally Jackson’s son is Lazarus, back from the dead._ It didn’t matter.

Ten more steps. He took another. Nine more.

What time was it, anyway? There was a clock on the wall at the next landing. If he squinted, he could read it. 3:20, coming home from school. 8:30, from a date. 10:30, from the end of the world.

Percy squinted. 12:30. The end of the world was lengthy. He was late.

Was anyone even awake? Surely they heard the footsteps. He laughed again. _Oh goodness, Mary, go check outside. I think Frankenstein’s on the next flight up!_

He laughed again. Everything was funnier when you were tired, even monsters.

Monsters. Monster. What if she knew? _She didn’t know_. When would he tell her? _He wouldn’t?_ Would she hate him? _She_ couldn’t.

Percy pushed the thoughts away frantically. He didn’t have the time or energy for Akhlys right now. He barely had enough energy for himself.

Five more steps. Five more. Just five more. _Zeus_ , Percy thought. _Take another step_.

Fatigue hurt so much.

Would he wake Paul? He looked at the clock again. 12:37. Yes, he would. Paul wasn’t a night owl. Would he be happy to see Percy again? Would he want him back from war?

Percy thought about Annabeth’s mother, his mortal mother, and he felt like he might throw up. Paul wouldn’t do that. His mom had married a good heart. He wouldn’t kick Percy out for being late for dinner, even if it was by seven months. That was a mild offense compared to the crap he’d pulled in the past. Surely.

He leaned on the railing, trying to keep his hands from shaking. 12:40. He was wasting time. What good was taking time to think on the landing to your home? It was stupid. _You’re scared_. It was _stupid_.

The landing. The landing. He was almost home.

Percy stretched his legs to get the last two steps in one.

He recognized the rug under his feet. The marks on the wall from when a rogue hellhound had thrown him into the doorframe. The landlord hadn’t been happy about that. Percy was pleasantly surprised when they’d still had a home the next day.

He stared at the door, and he couldn’t go in. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t. It was like some force was pressing against his chest, telling him to stay, stay, stay. Who was he, Dracula? This was his place. He could enter.

Percy pressed his hand against the dark wood of the door. He couldn’t. His throat felt dry. He had to get a drink, so he could talk. He needed to say hello to his mom intelligibly. That had to be a requirement. Even if he hadn’t brought her a t-shirt or an undamaged son, he could at least apologize with a clear voice.

There was a water fountain down in the lobby. Three flights away. He sighed. He turned on his heel to go.

“...going crazy-I’m positive I heard something.”

Percy froze.

“Maybe you dreamt it, Sally.”

“Probably. But...”

It was the voice. He knew it. Her mom-voice, a bizarre mix of tired, official, exasperated, and “I’m still right”. It was the voice that told him to do his homework.

Percy couldn’t move.

“I’m checking once. It might be one of the neighbors’ pets.”

“Come back to bed soon.”

He had to move. He didn’t know why, but he did. Now.

The door clicked open. He heard a quiet, distinct gasp.

Percy turned around.

Percy’s mom was staring at him like he really was a ghost. Her eyes were wide and dark and almost afraid.

He said hesitantly, “I forgot to call.”

“Sally? Is it a cat?”

She swallowed and looked back into the apartment, then again at Percy. Was she expecting him to disappear? Maybe she was. He’d done it often enough.

“Percy?” Her voice was quiet, steady, and painfully hopeful.

“Percy?” came Paul’s voice from inside the darkened apartment. He sounded disbelieving, like Percy was Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster.

“Mom?” Percy asked. His voice cracked.

He stepped forward, reaching a hand out. He didn’t know what he expected to touch. “I’m-I said I would be home soon.”

Sally was moving before he could register the words had left his mouth. She stared up at his face, blinked once, twice. Her eyes shone.

She grabbed his shoulders and hugged him, hard.

Percy’s breath left him in a rush. She hit good, for a small lady.

He threw his arms around her waist and let his head drop to her shoulder. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t.

She smelled like home.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Percy managed. “I’m home.”

Sally pulled back. She brushed her hand over his forehead, sweeping hair out of his eyes. Her voice broke when she talked. “You’re taller.”

Percy laughed, a halfway, tired thing. He leaned his forehead against hers, biting his lip to keep from grinning openly. “You’re shorter.”

Sally laughed, bright and full.

“I missed you.” He whispered.

His mom pulled him closer, rocking a little, like a lullaby.

“Oh my-Sally?”

Percy turned around, trying his best not to sniff. Crying wasn’t for right now. Crying was for funerals and fear, not home.

Paul stood in the door. He looked nervous, and incredulous and almost awed.

Sally raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t a cat.”

Paul stepped forward, still awkward. “Good thing you checked, then.” He stared for another beat, then smiled wide. 

“A very good thing.” Sally ran her eyes over her son. “You look like someone ran you over with a truck.”

Percy ran his hands through his hair. Even his scalp hurt. “That’s about what happened, yeah.”

His mom pulled him towards the door. “Let’s go in. You need first aid and food, and-and probably painkillers.” She sighed. “You never will stop getting into trouble, will you?”

Percy sighed along with her. “I was sort of hoping I would.”

“Try.” She rubbed his shoulder. He ignored the faint twinge of the bruise there. Her fingers were warm, like always. “I need my son at least part-time.”

He pretended to consider it. “Deal.” Percy bent to kiss her on the cheek.

She smiled. “You learned some manners on this quest of yours?”

“Learned some customs. Made a few new friends. You’ll have to meet them. You’ll like Hazel.” He paused. “She reminds me a lot of you.”

“Oh? How so?”

Percy paused at the door, half-smiling. His heart ached still, but it did feel a little better. Not like it had been healed, but like maybe it wasn’t ever all bad. He tapped out a little rhythm on the side of the wall. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

He pulled the door closed behind them.


End file.
